


Breaking Hearts (Ain't What It Used To Be)

by pillage_and_lute



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, One-Sided Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, mentioned child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:27:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27750769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pillage_and_lute/pseuds/pillage_and_lute
Summary: When he get's his heart broken, Jaskier doesn't get mad, he gets glamorous.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 133





	Breaking Hearts (Ain't What It Used To Be)

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this](https://justanotherqueerboy.tumblr.com/post/631373104913022976/ive-seen-people-write-jaskier-as-going-through-a) post by @justanotherqueerboy on Tumblr

Jaskier’s tailor in Oxenfurt knew him well. He’d sewn him probably hundreds of outfits. Appropriate and scholarly outfits during his professorship, as well as scandalous, bright, and at times downright lewd outfits during (and after) his student years. There were few patterns in the bard’s life that the tailor knew of, but one was consistent. 

After a heartbreak Jaskier’s outfits got louder.

When Valdo Marx, a student in his final year at Oxenfurt, had cheated on Jaskier, bright and hopeful in his very first year, before stealing his work, the Viscount had ordered something in pink with more sequins than stitches.

When Loreena at the pub had left to get married Jaskier had ordered an outfit in canary yellow to go to her wedding.

Once, Jaskier had come in, a smile on his face, and ordered a somber black funeral suit. During the fitting the tailor tactfully inqired about the cause. Jaskier’s father had died. The tailor knew nothing of the man, but when the young bard undressed to be measured there were scars from whip lashes, healed and stretched over years as Jaskier grew from a boy. 

He reflected that he, too was quite glad the old bastard was dead.

It was impossible not to like Jaskier. He was infectious. He was always complimentary and ever-tactful in requesting edits. He joked with the apprentices and encouraged them. And he always paid promptly.

When he dragged himself into the tailor’s shop, obviously straight off the road with his lute and pack and dusty boots something was clearly wrong. Jaskier’s face was dry but his eyes were shattered. A brittle smile made its way across his face. 

“My friend,” he said, setting down his lute case. “I could use some cheering up.” Then his bottom lip wobbled.

Oh dear.

Sighing sympathetically, the tailor pulled out the feathers. They would need to order more sequins, too.


End file.
